


The Snow Globe Affair

by girlintheglen



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Down the Chimney Affair, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is for Lindafishes8 for the Live Journal's Down the Chimney Affair 2014, hosted by the MUNCLE community.  The prompt: snow globe</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Snow Globe Affair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lindafishes8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindafishes8/gifts).



Somewhere in the Swiss Alps…

The street of the little village was a perfect representation of what people imagined a European Christmas scene should be. Beautiful displays in shop windows reflected every kind of delight for the eyes and the senses. A candy store glistened with ribbons of brightly colored sweets and the shop next door boasted knitted treasures of mittens and scarves to help ward off the cold.

Two men were making their way down the quaint, cobblestone street as a northerly wind blew a harsh mix of cold air and splinters of icy snow. The taller of the two, dark haired and with looks that made passersby think of movie stars in the American films they watched, was hunched over as he tried in vain to avoid the frigid lashing. He wore no hat, and the trench coat seemed inadequate against the cold.

The other man, smaller in stature and blond beneath a fedora and heavy scarf, appeared to be limping, although anyone observing would have difficulty saying for certain; his gait was impeded by the slope of the street and the buffeting wind. He wore a heavy coat that seemed slightly too large and, if one were to look more closely, had something concealed within it.

The two travelers trudged on past the decorated shop windows, avoiding bumping into others who dodged in and out of the doorways in search of whatever lay inside. Christmas was approaching quickly and the mood on this day was a mixture of anticipation and, for some, the frantic search for one last gift. Shoppers paid only a little attention to the two men, there was nothing about them that caused any kind of particular interest. Nearing the top of the little street, they paused in front of a shop with a large blue sign that proclaimed Hangl Tabak - Dorfstrasse 7.

“A tobacco shop? They couldn’t have sent us to a restaurant or a bakery?” Illya Kuryakin was cold and he was hungry, and now he was going to be holed up in a tobacco shop where he would most likely remain cold and hungry. Well, hungry in any event.

“Hey, at least it gets us out of this miserable weather. Maybe there’s a pot of soup waiting for us in the back.” Napoleon Solo was predictably optimistic, something that caused his blond partner to roll icy blue eyes into an expression of disdain for any type of hopefulness. So far this mission had netted little more than misinformation and, worryingly, a sprain to his left ankle.

And one more thing.

Illya put his hand to the door handle and pushed as a slip of wind whistled its way into the little shop. The man behind the counter waved them in, greeting them in English. Napoleon closed the door behind him, glad for the warmth inside and pleasantly surprised to find that it was more than tobacco being sold here. Lining the walls were clocks and candles, various types of fragrance bottles and, to Illya’s delight, an entire section devoted to chocolates in fancy boxes and tins.

“Herr Solo, Herr Kuryakin... welcome to my humble shop, I am Kurt. Our Uncle from New York told me that you would be stopping in today. Please, come in and take off your coats, warm yourselves over here by the heater.’’

Illya nodded as Napoleon smiled at their host. Just as he had imagined, the aroma of something wafted in from the back of the immaculate little shop. It must have registered somehow in his expression because the proprietor saw enough to know his guests were hungry.

“Oh, you two must be hungry. I have a kettle of knoephle soup and dumplings ...’ Illya looked up and finally smiled at Kurt, a look of recognition on his face.

“Oh, you know knophle Mr. Kuryakin? Many Bavarian immigrants in Russia would have made this a familiar dish, perhaps something your own mother might have prepared.” 

Napoleon wondered at that bit of trivia, but Illya was shaking his head so... no knophle for the Kuryakins.

“It is a dish I have enjoyed before, thank you for inviting us to share yours.” As usual there was no revelation forthcoming from the Russian’s past, but Napoleon had to figure his partner was, in all probability, an expert when it came to dumplings... all manner of them.

“Kurt, we have something for you. It seems to have been very important to the people we, um... the previous owners.”

Kurt was still smiling as he nodded his head. He didn’t often come in contact with the operatives from UNCLE, his was a low profile position that had mostly to do with passing on bits of information or news that might be helpful to the Command. It was an honor to have two of Alexander Waverly’s men here in his humble home. And it was Kurt’s home, he lived above the shop as did so many of his neighbors.

“I believe those people were not the true owners, and had in fact stolen this item.‘ Kurt folded his hands on top of the counter and leaned in slightly.

“You are encouraged, and that is Alexander’s word, to spend Christmas here as my guests. THRUSH is still out there, but you will be safe here, and since it is almost Christmas…” Illya and Napoleon exchanged looks that silently acquiesced to Kurt’s invitation. This place seemed pleasant enough, and with the weather bound to turn worse before it got better…

‘’We appreciate your hospitality Kurt, and we accept your kind offer. What about you, have you family living here with you?” Napoleon wondered about the man, he seemed like someone’s grandfather with a full head of white hair and an impressive mustache.

“Ah, no it is only me here. My wife passed away several years ago and... we were childless. But I have my little shop and do what I can for UNCLE.”  
Illya was listening as his eyes took in every detail of the room they were in. He had walked towards the display of chocolates when the door opened, a tinkling bell signaling a customer.

“Willkommen.” Kurt was quick to greet the young woman who entered. She was holding something in her hand, causing the UNCLE agents to immediately be on alert for any movements that might indicate her intentions were unfriendly. Instead she went to the counter and set upon it a glass domed object, something that Illya immediately recognized as a snow globe. The woman was in her twenties, with long brown hair that cascaded over the red coat she was wearing. Kurt leaned over the snow globe, whistling low and keen as he examined it more closely.

“Do you recognize it?” Her accent was American, prompting Napoleon to insert himself into the conversation before it was one.

“Pardon me, but what kind of snow globe is it that you would ask that question? I’m just curious, mind you.” He smiled at her, hoping she wasn’t offended by his forwardness.

“It is one designed by Norman Getterling; perhaps you’ve heard of him.” Napoleon had, but Illya was now at her side, and from the look on his face the item was of great interest to the Russian.

“Norman Getterling is a well known German artist, most notably from his work detailing the rebuilding of post-war Germany. He spent a great deal of time chronicling the efforts of the German people as they rose from the ashes, so to speak. This piece...’ Illya turned it around, looking at it from all angles.

“This is an amazing depiction of one of his paintings, The Restoration of Gilda.” Solo shook his head, both in amazement and annoyance. He knew all of this as well... Know it all Russian.

Kurt took up the narrative at this point.

“The Goebel Toy Company entered into an agreement with Getterling to produce a series of snow globes based on certain of his paintings. The proceeds were to be donated to charitable organizations that were helping displaced people still affected by the war.”

Napoleon jumped in and added the last bit of information, causing the young woman to smile at him appreciatively.

“The Goebel factory that was producing these burned to the ground before the first shipment was sent out. The only way anyone would have one of these is if …”

“If she had been given one by the artist.”

Ah.

“And that, I take it, is how you happened to have this one?” Napoleon was skeptical about her response.

“Well, not exactly.” The woman was smiling now.

“Napoleon.’ The smile turned to something else, a quizzical expression.

“My name. Napoleon Solo, and this is my, ahh, friend... Illya Kuryakin. We’re just taking refuge from the cold. Now it’s your turn... to tell us who you are.”  
The pretty brunette looked around the room at the three men as they each smiled back at her.

“Nancy Drew.” Now Napoleon was grinning as he subdued a chuckle.

“Really? You’re really Nancy Drew?” She nodded her head.

“My parents couldn’t resist, and I’ve been paying for their sense of humor all of my life.”

Illya was frowning now, not understanding the content of the conversation.

“Is there someone else named Nancy Drew?” The Russian was not familiar with the beloved fictional teenage detective.

“Oh, well you see Illya, Nancy Drew is the name of a super sleuth who has been solving cases for ...” He looked at Nancy for a timeline.

“Years, decades. Different authors have penned the novels over the years, but the characters continue on, solving mysteries and having fun. I just have the name, none of the fun.”

Kurt was anxious to get back to the topic of the snow globe.

“Miss Drew, why have you brought this item here, to me? Did someone send you?” She raised one eyebrow, considering the question and whether or not to confide to this trio the trail she had followed to arrive here. She decided Napoleon was someone who would be sympathetic to a woman traveling alone.

“Well... I was given this snow globe by someone who knew the artist. Apparently he had two of the prototypes; after the fire they were the only two in existence. Mister Getterling decided to keep them and not tell anyone in order to avoid creating a market for them, and to keep out of the eye of the storm, as it were. His art was his life, from what I understand of the man, and his efforts to help rebuild Germany by donating the money from the snow globes was a truly altruistic gesture. Without the inventory and the project, he just faded into obscurity. There are no other paintings from him that are known to exist.”

Illya was listening attentively, comparing Nancy’s story to what he knew about the history of the two little pieces of art. Napoleon found it fascinating that this woman had come into possession of one of the two surviving snow globes. Kurt was the one to comment at the end of her narrative.

“Do you wish now to sell this one? I am afraid I am perhaps not following your intentions.” Kurt was a cautious man, and he was considering the possibility that Nancy had obtained the snow globe under suspicious circumstances.

“Oh, well no, not really. I’m trying to return this one to its owner, and your name came up Mr. Regula.” Illya and Napoleon both took note of the name. Kurt’s family had been in Switzerland for a long time, it seemed.

“I see, and do you know to whom it belongs?” Kurt didn’t show his concern at her knowledge of his surname. He pointedly avoided using it among strangers. He wondered who had directed this woman to his shop.

Nancy began to feel a rising tension in the room.

“Miss Drew... Nancy...’ Napoleon was catching on to her apprehension and to Kurt’s worried expression. Illya had disappeared into a shadow, and before the American agent could ask where he’d gone the woman retrieved the snow globe and stepped away from the counter.

“Nancy? Look, I don’t know what you think is happening, you are not in any danger from us. But, from the look on Kurt’s face he’s slightly dismayed that you walked in here with his name on your lips and this story about a mysterious person waiting for you to return the, uh... snow globe. You can understand that.”

That seemed to cause Nancy relax just a little; Napoleon was a very handsome man, his smile instantly reassuring.

“You know what Napoleon, I’m a little confused myself. I was just being a tourist when, out of the blue, this man I met on the train started telling me a story about, well... about this.” She indicated the snow globe as she attempted to engage the UNCLE agent in her story.

“By the end of his tale I had agreed to detour up to this little village and track down Kurt in order to try and return ... this. I don’t know what I was thinking, the man was a total stranger.’ She stopped, as though trying to remember more about her experience. Nancy had lost sight of Kuryakin, but she continued on.

“You know, this fellow, Heinrich was his name... He told me to be careful about speaking to anyone other than Kurt.’  
At the look on Napoleon’s face Nancy took a step back, a response perhaps to the threat of danger.

“Nancy... it’s all right. We won’t let anything happen to you, but I’m afraid you have probably just helped out a member of an organization known as THRUSH; it has criminal intentions for this snow globe.’ Napoleon put his arm around the girl’s shoulder and led her to a small settee situated near the back of the shop. As he looked around for his partner the door tinkled again, admitting someone else into the shop.

“That is far enough Mr. Solo. If you will kindly escort the young woman and the snow globe back here to the front …” That was all he said, his expression changing from one of triumph to surprise as the dart from Illya’s gun penetrated the flesh of his neck.

Nancy tightened her grip on Napoleon’s arm while she reached into her coat pocket.

“Please drop the gun, Mr. Kuryakin, and kick it over there.‘ Nancy indicated a spot to the right of the front door.

“And now, if you will, please remove the other snow globe from wherever you’re hiding it inside of that ridiculously oversized coat you’re wearing.”  
Illya obliged, dropping his Special and kicking it away while reaching into the coat and withdrawing a snow globe that was identical to the one Nancy had brought with her into the shop.

“THRUSH?” Napoleon had begun to suspect something was off about Nancy’s story, but she didn’t really seem like a typical THRUSH. Nancy shook her head while she kept keen eyes on the three men in the room.

“No, just an enterprising freelancer looking for a way to pay for my European vacation.”

Napoleon smiled, not the friendly expression from earlier. Nancy felt a slight shiver run up her spine, an involuntary reaction to the underlying intention behind the smile.

“So, you stole this from that man? There must be more to your story than what you told us before.” Illya was curious about how Nancy could have managed to outsmart the THRUSH courier. They had only been able to gain access to the one he had been carrying in his pocket.

“I told you the truth about him striking up a conversation. I think he was looking for someone to gain entrance to your shop, Kurt. Once I realized what was involved, well... I mean I had heard about these, and knew they were valuable. And having the pair of them, well... I just figured that if he was sending me here then it must be because the mate of the one I had would be here.”

Impressive. She wasn’t an amateur, and when they got out of this situation and turned Nancy over to Interpol, perhaps they could find out more about this woman’s history.

There was one thing that puzzled all of the men from UNCLE…

“How did you persuade him to give you the snow globe? THRUSH aren’t exactly a trusting lot.” Illya had his suspicions, but this Drew woman was a good story teller; he wanted to hear more of her encounter with the man on the floor.

“Oh, well... he didn’t exactly hand it over, if that’s what you mean.’ A sly smile accompanied that remark.

“After he told me his story and felt confident that I would help him, I slipped him a mickey and left him to sleep it off in his train compartment. I got off at the next stop and found my way here. I was hoping that we could finish our business before he showed up, but at least you’ve eliminated him, for the time being.”

Nancy had herded the three men to the settee, and not wanting to actually harm any of them was now considering how to lock them into the room in the back. The aroma of Kurt’s knoephle soup now wafting in and filling the space with an unexpected warmth.

“Nancy, is this really what you want to do for Christmas? It isn’t too late to simply hand over that gun and the snow globes. There is a reason why THRUSH wanted those, and it has nothing to do with their value as objects d’art. You really don’t want to be in possession of those, trust me.”

Napoleon’s plea had a measure of sincerity that startled Nancy into thinking perhaps she should abandon this and call it a day. It was Christmas after all…

“What sort of reason? What is THRUSH anyway, and who are you guys? I’m starting to get the impression that Kurt here does more than sell fancy cigars and chocolates.’ She looked again at the white haired shop keeper, reminded again of the date.

“You know Kurt, if you had a beard…”

“You see Nancy, somewhere down inside you have just an inkling of the Christmas spirit trying to find its way out of this mess. What do you say?”  
Napoleon had her right on the edge of making the right decision. She was young, too young to go to jail and waste her life for these two glass domes. If she knew what she was holding…

“Miss Drew, the truth of the matter is that those two snow globes are not what they appear. The prototypes, as you called them, were designed not as art but as a vehicle to carry small particles of radioactive materials that were to be smuggled into the Soviet Union. Getterling was a Soviet sympathizer and his art was a second vocation; his first was as a nuclear physicist whose work was seized by the Nazis, but not before he was able to conceal a small capsule that was later used to infuse these snow globes with the contents. If that dome shatters…”

Nancy went pale as Illya spoke, her hands trembling now as first the gun and then one of the globes dropped from her grasp. Both agents dove towards her, Napoleon managing to tackle the woman to the floor as Illya caught the plummeting orb.

“Nice catch partner. Are we safe from nuclear implosion?” Nancy lay prone beneath the American agent, her breathing indicating the approach of some serious anxiety.

“We are safe, but my ankle seems to have twisted in yet another direction. i may need some assistance my friend.” Napoleon got up, leaving Nancy to lie on the floor until she recovered from the terror of what she had almost caused.

Illya handed the snow globe to Kurt and then yielded to Napoleon’s assistance as he struggled to his feet, favoring the throbbing ankle as he hobbled to the settee and sat. Kurt put the two snow globes in a metal box and then disappeared into the back. A team from the Geneva office would be summoned in order to transport the volatile artworks to a safe location.

Nancy managed to sit up, her face still pale and her hands still trembling. Perhaps this wasn’t the life she was intended to live. So far her offenses were minor, and this one had just fallen to her, as though fate expected her to carry it through to a profitable conclusion.

“What are you guys going to do with me? Am I going to jail?” Napoleon reached down to help her stand up, a comforting arm around her waist as he looked into her eyes.

“Nancy... Is that your real name?” She nodded. Some things just weren’t worth making up.

“Well, I don’t think you’re a bad person. In fact, if you think you’d be interested in a different line of work, we might have a suggestion for you that would take you out of the petty robbery business and put you to work for the good guys: Us.”

That smile again, and Nancy thought she might just kiss Napoleon Solo. She was certain it would be a very pleasant experience.

“Excuse me, but are you actually suggesting that she join UNCLE? Mr. Waverly may not see your reasoning, Napoleon.” Illya shook his head, it was inevitable that his partner would manage to corral the female and find a way to keep her close. His ankle needed attention and he was still hungry. Where was Kurt, and where was his knoephle?

“I think Mr. Waverly will approve, and if Nancy can get through her training, then... well, you yourself know how valuable the skills of a thief can be in our line of work.”

“And it doesn’t hurt that she’s reasonably pretty.” Nancy looked again at the blond. He was sort of cute, although not as friendly as Napoleon.

“You think I’m pretty? Why, thank you Mr. Kuryakin. You’re sort of cute yourself.” A wink was met with a roll of the blue eyes.

Kurt reemerged from the back, confident that the danger was now contained. He ascertained that all was well, and found himself relieved to know that the pretty young woman had not turned out to be an actual villainess.

“Is anyone hungry? I have that beautiful kettle of knoephle, and will put my dumplings in now so that we can eat. It is Christmas Eve after all. I have room for everyone upstairs, we shall have a proper and happy Christmas, just we four.”

The other three were happy to accept the shop keepers invitation, relieved at the outcome and generous enough to feed the THRUSH when he woke up from his slumber. They didn’t untie him, however, and when the crew from Geneva arrived and took him and the snow globes, all that remained was for Kurt to enjoy the contentment of his guests as they settled in for the evening, and for the approach of Christmas Day.

As each of them snuggled into their warm beds for the night, Kurt busied himself preparing gifts for the three young people. It had been a long time since he had someone to care for.

There was a deep snow on the ground when the morning arrived, the aroma of brewed coffee and ginger spiraling upstairs like a fragrant mist. Three people, all far away from their homes and yet feeling very much at home, descended the stairs and arrived in the cheery kitchen. Kurt was working at the stove and greeted them. Their attention went to an unexpected sight, a tree beneath which were wrapped presents.

“Kurt? What are these, they weren’t here last night, I would have noticed.” Nancy was amazed, not just because of the tree and gifts, but at her sudden change of fortune. Yesterday she was a thief, prepared to steal from these men and embark on a life of crime. Today, on Christmas morning, she felt enveloped in a special kind of warmth that made her believe in miracles. Her life would never be the same, and she had these men to thank for that.

Illya and Napoleon were likewise affected, neither of them able to remember spending Christmas like this; sheltered within the little shop and befriended by this kind old gentleman. Each of them wondered about his relationship to Alexander Waverly, about the tree and gifts... and Nancy. Perhaps this was indeed the Spirit of Christmas, this renewal and generosity that was greeting them here this morning.

“We are all well and content, yes.” Kurt carried over a steaming pot of coffee and a tray of pastries.

Well and content. Yes, they were. Each of them marveled at the gifts received, at the kindness and hospitality extended to them by Kurt. For him it was the gift of companionship on this day that was intended to be shared. He would savor the memory every year thereafter.

In the months to come Nancy would embark on her new life as an UNCLE employee, eventually attending Survival School and gaining the status of a Section III agent. Illya and Napoleon would continue to serve the Command, risking life and limb more often than they cared to remember when the memories were revived years later.  
Each of them would remember this morning, and Kurt, and the Christmas spent in the humble little shop where lives had changed, and gifts were given.

A new life, an enduring friendship, and the cheer of giving.

Merry Christmas.


End file.
